


Cutthroat Love

by DUMB_DRAGON



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Breaking and Entering, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 12:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19853077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DUMB_DRAGON/pseuds/DUMB_DRAGON
Summary: The Vagabond was on his nightly hunt for a cheap kill and a quick buck to put in his pocket, but his victim was far from what he expected them to be.That is, incredibly cute.





	Cutthroat Love

The pitter-patter of rain left the atmosphere feeling cozy, much like the two cats of the household who were lying down on the couch snoozing away without a care in the world. All lights were turned off, curtains drawn to block out the outside world. Looks like a simple sheet of fabric wouldn't do the trick tonight. For the Dooley household, it had became another target for the Vagabond's keen eyes that had washed over it a couple days back. It was a lavish house with flora lining the front yard, little garden gnomes speaking silent welcomes to those who entered. 

A welcome wouldn't be necessary for the Vagabond

It was ten o'clock at night, the time where society was beginning to settle down beneath their warm covers and slipped into dreamland. It was perfect for a late night B&E. The dark skull mask which lined the Vagabond's face was wet with rain, his long locks sticking to the back of his neck. But he wouldn't let himself get distracted that easily, not when he had a house to rob and people to massacre. The one small car parked out front told the Vagabond that his victim lived alone and would barely provide any sort of fight once he had commenced the crime. Not like he needed an exceptionally crazy night, anyways.

A wicked grin was plastered over his face behind the mask as he began to work the locks on the backyard door, listening for the telltale clicks. Turns out, this guy's lock system was absolute garbage. The Vagabond heard the door unlock and pulled out his utensils used for such a task, setting them into his pocket before sliding into the house as quiet as a mouse. Even the two cats remained asleep, a tabby and a chunky black cat sleeping side by side. It was almost cute enough to make the Vagabond smile.

But before he could begin his search for precious jewelry or hidden cash in the couch cushions, the sound of running water in a nearby room made the Vagabond stop in his tracks. It also made his chest squeeze in excitement as his hand snuck down to unsheathe one of his trusty knives. 

First victim of the night.

One of the Vagabond's favorite things to do is to rid his face of the signature mask and allow his targets to take in his sinister glare before they eventually succumbed to blood loss, their vision fading into blackness with only his face in frame. He wanted to make sure the last thing they saw as they died was his face alone. Gently placing the black skull mask onto the counter, he strode carefully through the dimly lit house with deadly accuracy. Like a big cat prowling the savanna for its next meal.

Light filtered out through the slight crack of an opened door, the Vagabond picking up on soft humming and could see a shadow shuffling around in the midst. He fiddled around with the weapon that laid heavy in his grip, a work of fine craftsmanship from years ago. The Vagabond kept his knives near and dear to his heart much like a father would with his children. But this time, his children just happened to be over 30 different types of knives. 

The Vagabond was closing in on his target, blood rushing through his ears as the excitement of a future kill ran clear through his veins. Murder was a drug to the Vagabond, and he planned on staying addicted as long as he had fresh throats to slit. His left hand inched towards the doorknob, licking away the sweat on his upper lip as he gripped the handle before pulling forward with harsh force.

The Vagabond was cheesy with his ways of murder, and it was like icing on the cake to add a bit of fear factor to the inevitable surprise of his presence. That being said, a little "Here's Ryan" was necessary. But, as he began to speak, a shrill and totally unmanly cry pierced the air forcing the Vagabond to stop in his tracks.

There stood a short, bald man gripping onto yet another cat, an orange tabby by the looks that seemed very unimpressed with the killer's entrance. However, the short man was the opposite. "Oh God oh fuck please don't fucking kill me--!" The stranger squeaked out with tears pricking in his widened eyes. The poor cat was being manhandled like a fucking stuffed animal as the frightened man backed against the wall of the room and continued to babble in fear for his life.

And yet, the only thing the Vagabond could think of in this moment was, "Oh, he's cute."

Sure, he's come across some cute girls and buff guys that he might just have dated if they met under different circumstances, but... this guy. Oh, this guy was different. There was no way in hell he was even at 5'5 in height, his soft brown eyes that watered with frightful tears only extended that puppy-dog exterior. Not to mention those damn shoulders and arms that clearly showed he took the time to work on his appearance, even if he had no idea how to combat someone like the Vagabond.

The killer was snapped out of his raging thoughts when the man had slumped down onto his rear and held his cat close to his chest, gently sobbing into the orange fur like a child would with their prized stuffed animal. The Vagabond could feel his heart throb at the sight, eyes widening at the foreign sensation. Almost five years of murder and he was suddenly falling for this shortie? Oh, he was so incredibly fucked. The Vagabond hesitantly stuffed his knife away with sweat beading on his forehead and a now scarlet face, watching at the man had stopped his crying and was now looking up at him.

Looking right into his eyes.

Vagabond stuttered on his words, feet stuck to the floor as if they were glued down. Fuck, what was going on with him? Pull it together, Haywood! The bald man quickly wiped his tears away with an equally as confused expression, staring up at his attacker wondering why the hell he had decided to suddenly spare him. If only he knew the truth...

The blond man bit at his lip, looked to the side, hands tucked into tight fists as he mulled over what he could possibly say in this moment. Looks like it wouldn't take long, as his brain had decided to give zero fucks and delve into autopilot. "You're really cute--" The Vagabond choked out, brows furrowed together as he had to internally slap himself for the seemingly dull line he had used. Yet, his target's eyes widened, a tint of pink appearing on his face as this buff and quite handsome man had just referred to his pathetic crying form as "cute."

"O-Oh, I--" The man began, but was cut off as the Vagabond had quickly stormed out from the room and hightailed it to the unlocked back door that was swiftly closed behind him. So caught up in his racing thoughts and desire to leave the premises that he had forgotten one crucial detail: his mask.


End file.
